Where the fuck were you
When I wasn't capable of
Sorting myself out?
You didn't carry it all, ever.
I stood before the tall,
Wooded banks and said
Let's go ahead. Let's try again.
Maybe it would have been sad,
And quite possibly dreadfully
Distant, but I guess I missed it;
Don't get it when you come home,
And say it's over.
Share that place with a stranger.
Make me run away against my will
Because some band-aid saves you
From yourself. I could have saved you.
If I can't help anyone else I'm doomed.
I don't care about me a minute.
Quite actually I bore me to death.
But now I'm left with this sad asshole;
What else can I do but be busy?
Everyday something to attend.
Somebody please fill my day,
Else I'm at Lake George looking for
The white duck in the fold,
And thinking how I feel like a
Little boy, lost in the abyss of what
Might be my final movement
In this slow sonata of my life.